Circles
by akisawana
Summary: Dinobot knows circles. Dinobot/Rattrap. Miltonian blank verse.


Title: Circles  
Author: akisawana  
Genre: Beast Wars, Dinobot/Rattrap, epic poetry  
Disclaimer: Trust me, if Beast Wars was mine, there'd be a whole lot more Silverbolt.  
Warnings: Blank verse. Dinobot. That ought to cover it.  
Notes: Karma's been kicking my ass lately (see: last six months.) Figured I'd might as well do something to deserve it. Writing an epic poem in Miltonian blank verse about two robots who go about being gay like a couple of ten-year-olds seems as good as anything.  
Summary: Dinobot knows circles.

_The circle is the shape with the largest area for a given length of perimeter._

Dinobot knows circles.

First he learned the circle of sword  
The circle of his arm, the circle of shield  
Circle of feet, his and foes, circles of safety  
And of danger.

Dinobot knows circles.

Next he learned circles of _people_  
His and _them, _weak _them_, cruel _them_  
Who were not so different  
From his people.

Dinobot knows circles.

Even within the circle of Predacon  
Exists more circles; the insects buzzing  
The arachnids plotting and over all is Megatron.  
Megatron who holds them in orbit.  
Ever circling.

Dinobot knows circles.

Dinobot knew his circle, closest to the Sun  
To Megatron, too close Megatron.  
Honor binds him, Maximals trap him.  
And yet, common sense pulls him away.  
Endless circle.

Dinobot knows circles.

The planet they are on, strange planet.  
A circle spun 'round complete, a sphere  
Where what could be, is. What couldn't be  
Is. And he finds a new circle.

Dinobot knows circles.

Maximals, mirror of Predacons dark;  
Rhinox, with all the patience of Scorponok  
The curiosity checked by mercy. Cheetor  
So much like Waspinator in heart, in life  
So different in soul.

Dinobot knows circles.

Optimus Primal, the center of it all  
The hub 'round which the Axalon revolves.  
So like Megatron, with shouts and threats.  
Empty threats, here. And within his reach  
A circle of safety.

Dinobot knows circles, and that Optimus needs a vacation.

Rattrap, his own dark mirror, stinking vermin.  
Still quick on the field of battle, quick on the field of words.  
First to accept him, last to admit it, just as proud.  
Just as honorable, if his code is as baffling  
As any Maximal.

Dinobot knows circles.

Rattrap is made of them, shoulders, elbows  
Hips, knees, ankles, Dinobot has traced them all.  
Traces them still, as the rat sleeps, and a new one.  
Glistening new where a laser hit.

Dinobot knows circles.

Circle from CR chamber to Rhinox.  
Recrimination from the rhino.  
Forgiveness from Optimus.  
Back to the CR chamber.  
A new circle, still.

Dinobot knows circles.

He knows the circle of his arms, tight enough to hold  
the rat to him safe, not tight enough to harm.  
As they both say unmeant words, and clever thief hands  
Trace circles of their own.

Dinobot knows circles.

Another new circle, pacing behind the rodent.  
Rhinox first, who glares at Dinobot in blame.  
Cheetor, whose joy always, secretly, lifts his mood.  
Optimus last, and the rat is his once more.

Dinobot knows circles.

Dinobot knows the circle of his doorcode  
The circle of his tail, the arc that brings his rat  
Up, in his arms, safe, eye to eye, to say  
Don't do that again.

Dinobot knows circles.

Knows the half circle that is Rattrap's head tilting  
The circle of shoulders as he shrugs, the circle of arms  
Around his neck, so quick, so fragile.  
You think I liked that?

Dinobot knows circles.

The circle of mouths meeting perfectly, skill  
Not fate, a thousand tiny bites testify to that.  
Slender legs around his waist, anchoring  
A cry, as he bites not-so-gently,  
Marking what's his.

Dinobot knows circles.

He knows the steps to the bed that has seen this  
A thousand times, and will a thousand times more.  
He lays his rodent on it and examines the CR tank's work  
In slow spirals, with his eyes and his hands.  
Hold still, can't you, for two seconds?

Dinobot knows circles.

Hard to, when you're doing that.  
Rattrap begins circles of his own, hands too clever for  
His own good, and Dinobot forgets to be gentle.  
Forgets morning's battle, forgets fragility, forgets everything.  
But circles and circles and circles.

Dinobot knows circles.

And when his rodent is exhausted, recharging  
Still as he'll ever be, Dinobot finishes his task.  
Gentle circles round visible components and long-vanished wounds.  
Until he gathers what's his in the circle of his arms.  
No other word for Rattrap, but _his_.

Dinobot knows circles.

And though his body is still, his mind runs through a thousand  
Battles, with what's his against his chest and on his back.  
Under his tail, between his legs, in his arms proper and  
Across his shoulders in haste.

Dinobot knows circles.

Every battle in his mind's eye, he measures how much circle  
He loses, to bring what's his within it. The arc of his shield  
Cut short, the flex of shoulders gone. But every battle  
Is circle within circle within circle.

And Dinobot knows circles.


End file.
